Roaming on The Tols’ Braes
In all kinds of weather
Biding here all my days
Munching sprigs of heather
But keep your eye out in the spring
That’s when they’re feeling frisky
At breeding time we have a fling
And like a dram of whisky.

There once was a knight from Ward Kaloni,
who rode all about on a pony,
he participated in jousts,
‘gainst many a windmill and house,
’til it was revealed he was a phoney.

The wonderful thing about Halflings
Is Halflings are wonderful things
They’re much more rogues than robbers
Yet out of the shadows they spring!
They’re hidey, skulky, takey-quicky
Run, run, run, run.
But the most wonderful thing about Halflings is
your gold just left with one!

Like melted candles ’round a dead man’s head
Weeping willow-trees stand round the sun-bleached stone;
Here doth the cackling hag make her throne,
And the great dragon shows his scaly head.
And, where the ring of poppies flame to red,
In the still chamber of the black pyramid
Awaits the Old-World Sphinx lurking darkly hid,
Grim warder of the treasures of the dead.

Laid long ago to rest within the womb
Of Tamarin, great guardian of Io’s sleep,
Lies the lost world key to secrets entombed.
In the shadow caverns of the fell deep,
Where even shadows daren’t enter the gloom
And the gods of Tamarin their promise keep.